


quite unconventional

by whooves



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, travelling circus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whooves/pseuds/whooves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is all very unorthodox, you know?” </p>
<p>Enjolras laughs. “Welcome to Les Amis. I think you’ll find that we get by just fine on what many would consider unorthodox.”</p>
<p>Needless to say, joining the circus is much easier than Combeferre had anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quite unconventional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dezz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezz/gifts).



> Many thanks to Abigail for editing a lot and at the last minute, and to the Les Mis Holidays mods!
> 
> Gifted to willowwords, Cara: I hope you enjoy! (Sorry it's almost two hours late.) Happy holidays!

Combeferre joins the circus mostly because he’s spent upwards of eight years in school and still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. He’s not quite running away, but he does have next to nothing in life, besides a great veterinary degree. He also has next to no debt. It’s an odd combination, and an especially unusual one from his line of education. Combeferre knew he didn’t want to work in a veterinary practice from the moment he stepped into his clinicals, and has turned down well-meaning professors offering to help him get a job. He does not want to spend his life visiting cattle farms and university agriculture departments. As a big animal vet, opportunities are somewhat more limited. He likes horses, but doesn’t want to specialize in equine medicine.

So, the circus it is.

It’s a measured move, and he does think it through for a while. Combeferre has just finished vet school, which, though extremely rewarding, had not exactly been a place to make close friends. He’s not in touch with any of his friends from home, and only talks to one or two people from university on a semi-regular basis. He doesn’t like to think about his parents too much, but has a sister in Maryland whom he writes to on a semi-regular basis.

So he’s a vet with very few personal connections and in need of work. He’s aware it reads a whole lot like _Water for Elephants_ , but it is what it is. So when Les Amis de l’ABC Spectacular comes into town, he buys his ticket and hopes that there’s some way he can convince someone there to give him a job.

He stays back after the show, in the beautiful blue and red striped big top. It was a brilliant performance. The ringleader was gorgeous and fierce, the clowns were hilarious, the trapeze artists and acrobats were incredible. However, Combeferre isn’t staying to compliment the show right now.

“Your front right horse, the grey one, has an abscess in her hind left hoof.” Combeferre says as he corners the blonde ringleader.

“Excuse me?” the man startles, turning around from where he’s coiling up a long piece of rope. The man is even more attractive up close than from Combeferre’s seat in the big top. He has platinum blonde ringlets that threaten to spill out of a ribbon and piercing blue eyes. In the show he seemed grandiose and mysterious - almost cold. Here, with his red jacket off and sleeves rolled up, he seems much more human, and his voice makes him seem almost approachable.

“One of your horses has a hoof abscess. I’m pretty sure. You won’t be able to use her by next week, if it goes untreated. She’s already a little lame.”

The man frowns, immediately concerned. 

“Is she in pain?” Combeferre shrugs, and the man begins muttering to himself.

“Do you have a vet?” Combeferre asks. The man blinks, and then a smile appears, spreading slowly.

“Is that what this is?” he asks, “A sales pitch?”

Combeferre blushes, and brings up a hand to rub at his neck.

“Kind of,” he starts. Pauses. “Well, yes. But I didn’t make up the abscess.”

The ringleader steps back and looks Combeferre up and down, appraisingly. It’s disconcerting. He walks a circle around Combeferre and then folds his arms.

“Let’s see how you do with the abscess today. I’ll also want to see your credentials.”

“An abscess won’t heal in a day,” Combeferre protests. He knows they’re leaving tomorrow: their shows in this town ended today.

“I know what I’m looking for. I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“And do I pass?” Combeferre asks. The ringleader raises an eyebrow.

“Courfeyrac!” he calls. A man appears out of a flap in the tent that Combeferre had not realize existed. It’s the lion tamer, a man Combeferre actually has a great deal of respect for. During the show, he led his lion through a number of tricks with only a wave of his hand. Combeferre spotted the whip curled up and stuck in the man’s boot, but he had never even laid a hand on it. Combeferre found more smiles and quiet coaxing in his performance than the harshness and dominance which he would have expected.

“You called?” the man, Courfeyrac, sing-songs, as he drapes himself across the ringleader’s back.

“Oh will you get off me, you limpet?” Courfeyrac whines but lets himself be shaken off.

“What’s up?”

“This is,” the man starts.

“Combeferre,” he supplies helpfully.

“This is Combeferre. He might be our new vet. Can you show him to the horse trailers?”

This has been much, much easier than Combeferre thought. He assumed he’d be required to submit an application, or be laughed at, or be referred to fifty different people until he had to talk to some man in an office.

“Sure,” Courfeyrac says.

“It was very nice to meet you, Combeferre. Thank you for your concern, and for your offer. I will consider it accordingly. When you’re done, ask them to point you towards my trailer.”

“What should I call you?”

“Oh,” he extends his hand, to shake. “Enjolras.” He flashes a brilliant smile, and then is gone through the flap Courfeyrac had appeared out of.

“Woah,” Combeferre says. Courfeyrac laughs.

“Yeah, they all say that.” Combeferre isn’t at all surprised. “Hey, this way.” Courfeyrac leads Combeferre out and down to the rows of performers’ trailers, animal trailers and storage compartments. “So you want to join the circus?”

“Kind of poetic, isn’t it?” Another voice comes from over Combeferre’s shoulder. It’s the tall willowy magician, her pink hair wrapped up in a bun. “Running away with the circus?”

“Jehan’s rubbing off on you, Bahorel.” Courfeyrac replies.

She winks. “Yeah, you know it.” Her smile is positively wicked. Courfeyrac winces, and even though Combeferre doesn’t know anyone they’re talking about, he understands the double entendre well enough.

“Oh, Combeferre, this is Bahorel. Bahorel, this is Combeferre, our new vet.”

“I’m not-” Combeferre starts to protest, and Courfeyac huffs. “Enjolras said he would think about it. I’m supposed to see him after I take a look at that horse.”

“Enjolras is letting you backstage and letting you treat one of his beloved horses. And he didn’t dismiss you after you spoke. He either wants something from you, or wants to hire you. Bet you it’s the second.”

“Yeah,” Bahorel says. “We lost our vet a few stops back, guy was stealing from us. You’ll be okay. He pretends to be scary, but Enjolras is a good guy.” She pats Combeferre on the back, and then stops in front of a brightly striped trailer. “This is my stop. See you soon, Combeferre.” She winks. He waves, and they part ways.

The horses are just fifty or so yards away from the performers’ trailers, and he can spot the grey he was watching during the show. The abscess isn’t hard to treat - he drains it and wraps it quickly. There is a fairly decent caché of supplies, even if some of them are a bit old and expired.

Honestly, an abscess isn’t necessarily a veterinary problem. But if no one else knows how, it’s a good thing Combeferre is here. It might even get him a job. He pats the horse on the flank and sighs.

There are easily thirty trailers out here, between ones for the performers and ones for the animals, as well as storage.There is no way he’s going to be able to find Enjolras’s trailer without some help. He wanders for a few minutes, and then stumbles upon an elephant being hosed down and scrubbed.

The elephant’s eyes are half-lidded, she looks relaxed, and squirts some water out of her trunk at the girl who’s washing her. It’s the redhead who was giving elephant rides before the show. However, the elephant hadn’t been part of the actual performance, which Combeferre had found odd. He was under the general impression that the elephant was the the most important act in a circus, or at least the most iconic.

“Hello,” the girl says. “Can I help you?” She narrows her eyes and looks Combeferre up and down, appraisingly. She must like something about what she sees, because she relaxes a bit.

“Hello. I’m Combeferre.” He offers her his hand. “The new vet, maybe. Any chance you can point me to Enjolras’s trailer?”

She shakes his hand so tightly, he feels like it might break. He’s also left with a wet, sudsy hand, which he wipes on his jeans.

“Floréal. Nice to meet you Combeferre.” She turns around. “Wait a minute, I’m almost finished here. I’ll walk you over; I’m not sure where he’s parked today. Are you joining us at this stop?”

“Hopefully,” Combeferre shrugs, looks at his feet on the grass.

“Probably,” she amends. “Enjolras doesn’t usually let anyone stay after the show, he likes to clear people out so we can get rest or get ready to go. I’m sure you’re fine. Would you like to say hello to Atlas?” She smiles, and gestures to the elephant.

“Sure,” Combeferre kneels down near the animal’s head to pat her shoulder. She responds in kind my snuffling at him with her trunk, and then patting him on his shoulder. He laughs, and smiles. “Smart animals, elephants.”

“Very,” Floréal says, “but we’ve recently lost our elephant trainer, so quite a bit is lost in translation at present. That’s why we don’t have her performing. Alright.” She pats Atlas on the flank with the bullwhip and says “Up.”

Atlas raises herself to a standing position, with some amount of difficulty. Combeferre can imagine that it must be difficult to lay down and get up when you’re one of the largest land mammals. Floréal signals someone who looks like the circus version of an intern.

“Keep an eye on her for a few, would you? I’ll be right back.” The kid grins and walks to stand in front of the elephant, completely unfazed by being put in charge of an incredibly large and powerful animal.

“Alright Combeferre, let’s go.”

“Thanks,” he says, patting Atlas again.

“Sure you want to join the circus? Life on the road’s a bitch,” she offers. It’s almost a warning, but he can tell her heart isn’t in it. 

“Can’t be any worse than what I’ve got now, which is nothing.”

This makes her smile for some reason. They eventually stop in front of a dirty beige trailer, and she knocks on the door.

“Well, Combeferre, I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

The door swings open, and out pops a mop of dark unruly curls which definitely don’t belong to Enjolras. When he sees Combeferre and Floréal standing outside he smiles.

“Just a sec.” He shuts the door and then opens it less than a minute later. He’s shirtless, gripping a white button-down in his fist. He’s short and stocky, with especially well-built arms. He’s clearly a performer, but Combeferre doesn’t remember him from the show. When he spots a wrist wrapping, Combeferre understands. What he notices next are the red-blue bruises pockmarking his neck and collarbone. It brings a bright flush to his cheeks, and then to the man in the doorway’s, once he’s realized what Combeferre is looking at. “Who’d you bring to see Enjolras, Flo?”

“I’m not with Progressive, R, you know my name.” The words are blunt, but Combeferre sees the hint of a smile.

“Floréal,” he says, stepping down to kiss her cheeks, “Darling. I miss you so. Joly says I’ll be back soon, and we can resume our wonderful double act.” He turns to Combeferre. “Hello, Grantaire, or R if you prefer. Who are you?”

“Combeferre. Nice pun,” he says with a small smile. Grantaire breaks into a grin, obviously appreciative. The full force of his smile is stunning, and Combeferre blinks to clear the stars from his eyes. Enjolras appears behind Grantaire, looking over his shoulder. Enjolras is fully clothed, but nowhere near as put together as Combeferre saw him forty-five minutes ago. How is it possible that everyone he’s met so far in this circus is incredibly attractive?

“Oh, Combeferre,” and Enjolras has the grace to look embarrassed about his state of disarray. “Grantaire, this is our new vet,” he pauses, “contingent on seeing his credentials, of course.”

“Of course,” Grantaire says, amused. He looks back and whispers something to Enjolras which makes him blush. “See you later, _ange_ ,” Grantaire winks, and Enjolras clasps him on the shoulder before he leaves. He offers his arm to Floréal, who rolls her eyes, but takes it. “Nice to meet you, Combeferre. Welcome aboard.”

Enjolras watches them go, then waves Combeferre inside. He’s ditched his fancy getup for jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, but somehow still manages to look regal.

The inside of the trailer is pretty standard. Combeferre and Enjolras sit at a small table, and he can see a small bedroom in the back of the trailer. The table is overrun with what looks like paperwork - permits, payroll, contracts.

“So, Combeferre. How is Ariadne?”

“Ariadne? Oh, the grey?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras smiles. “Grantaire and Feuilly named the horses. They’re all Greek, or Nordic, or something else.”

“She’s alright. The abscess wasn’t too deep. I put a wrap on it, which should probably be changed every eight to twelve hours. It should be cleared up in two days, but I would suggest five days off, to be safe.” He doesn’t mention that this information can be found on the internet. He needs a job, and so he can be the horse expert if he needs to.

“We can rest her for a week, we’ll make it work. Are you leaving with us tomorrow?”

The question throws him.

“Do I have a job?” Enjolras nods. “Well, I would need to pack. Am I supposed to have a trailer like this?”

Enjolras laughs.

“This is more of an office than a living space. No, you don’t need a trailer, we provide for our performers and staff. There are a few trailers with open bunks. You can meet with a couple people and decide who you want to live with.”

“This is all very unorthodox, you know?” 

Enjolras laughs again. “Welcome to Les Amis. I think you’ll find that we get by just fine on what many would consider unorthodox.”

Needless to say, joining the circus is much easier than Combeferre had anticipated.

~

“Enjolras,” Grantaire whines, “I want to do the show.” 

“I don’t make the calls, Joly makes the calls. Joly says you can’t do trapeze work yet, you’ve probably got weeks to go. Your wrist is still pretty bad. Relax, read a book, make a friend.” This makes Grantaire frown, he’s friends with, or at least friendly with, the majority of their company.

“Make a friend?”

“Combeferre looks at you a lot.” Enjolras doesn’t sound bothered by this, which hurts a bit. Grantaire and Enjolras have been hooking up for a month now, but apparently it’s nothing serious. Sadly, he hasn’t been expecting much more. He’ll take what he can get. 

However, he has noticed what Enjolras is talking about, but apparently they’ve been seeing it differently.

“No, he looks at _you_ a lot. I just happen to be your persistent, annoying shadow.” This manages to get a smile out of Enjolras.

“You’re okay, when you’re not trying to get me to yell at you. Which is often.” Grantaire feels warm inside at his admission. It is not overtly fond, but their friendship is an unconventional one.

“I do my best,” he shrugs. 

“Talk to him, would you? Help him acclimate. He’s living with Courfeyrac. You can bring him the vet supply magazines if you need an excuse to talk to him. It’s not like we treat our animals badly. All he’s done is patch up the mare and do some routine checkups. Staff vet isn’t really an intensive position, until something goes wrong. I think he’s lonely.”

“So, be friends with him?”

“Yeah, or something.”

“Or something?”

Enjolras shrugs, and Grantaire’s warm feeling disappears.

“Yeah, okay,” Grantaire says, and leaves Enjolras staring at his papers.

Becoming friends with Combeferre is easy. Hanging out with Combeferre is easy. They talk, they joke, they read and trade books. Grantaire introduces him to the rest of the performers and crew. They spend a significant portion of each day together - Combeferre watching Grantaire stretch, Grantaire helping Combeferre create veterinary logs for each animal.

“So when do I get to see you perform?” Combeferre has been with them nearly a month, but Grantaire has been on rest for a while now. It’s not that his wrist hasn’t healed, but trapeze work isn’t exactly easy on the wrists, and if he’s not at his best, there’s a lot more at stake than another sprain.

“Joly hasn’t cleared me for practice yet, probably won’t for another weeks or so. You can come watch me when he does, if you want. You’re always welcome to watch anyone practice if you get bored. Éponine might glare at you, but she’ll get over it. Most people are excited to have an audience.”

“Éponine is…” Combeferre still struggles to identify just what everyone’s role is in the show, but Grantaire doesn’t blame him. There are a lot of them, with a lot of complicated names and complicated acts.

“She does the tightrope.” 

“Oh, yes. Long dark hair?” Grantaire nods. “Okay. I need to read up on elephants this week, but I’ll definitely stop in at some practices. Especially yours.” He smiles at Grantaire. “So,” he says, but doesn’t finish his thought. He seems uneasy.

“So?”

“Enjolras,” he starts, and Grantaire understands the uneasiness. “Does he have an act as well, or does he just ...lead?”

“Enjolras has been our ringmaster for almost a year now. Before that, he was a contortionist and an acrobat. Ask him to put his legs behind his head for you one day,” Grantaire says with a wink. Combeferre blushes, and Grantaire laughs. “But he learns other acts, just for fun. He can walk a tightrope, though not as gracefully as Ep. He can also juggle and does a halfway decent magic show. I tried to teach him knife throwing once, for fun. Finally found something he can’t do.“ Grantaire shivers at the memory. Enjolras with a throwing knife was terrifying.

“You can throw knives?”

“It’s more of a hobby than an act. Cosette taught me a bit. I can hit a target, but I won’t be putting anyone in front of that target soon.”

“Wouldn’t have Enjolras step in for you like he does for Cosette?”

Grantaire blanches at the thought. He’d likely cut off some of Enjolras’s hair, at the very least, if not spear a hand or vital organ. Combeferre smiles at him and Grantaire laughs weakly.

“Not sure he trusts me enough to let me do that.” Combeferre looks at him, puzzled.

“Seems like the two of you get along just fine. You spend a lot of time in his trailer. Or you did.” Combeferre’s eyebrows raise, and Grantaire really, _really_ doesn’t want to have to explain this situation to Combeferre.

“It’s not really like that,” he says, and he’s sure he sounds morose. Combeferre puts a hand on his shoulder, and looks at him with a warm, sympathetic smile.

Combeferre does come to watch him the next time he practices, as do a number of the others. Joly is there to make sure he doesn’t injure himself. Floréal is part of his act. Jehan and Feuilly come for support and entertainment. While he’s stretching out, Grantaire explains a bit about what’s going on to Combeferre.

“So, we have a double flying trapeze act. I’ve been working with Floréal for this season, but the acts change pretty regularly. The flying trapeze basically means that we jump off that,” Grantaire points to a pedestal up in the air, “and swing down, which creates a lot of momentum. We work with a net, but if you fall, it’s likely not graceful, and likely still going to hurt. We try not to fall.” Grantaire smiles.

“Ready to go, then?” Floréal asks, from her handstand.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

Being on the trapeze again is great. He starts with a fair amount of warm up, as he’s been off for over two weeks now. Even Grantaire isn’t stupid enough to just hop on and start swinging. When he’s up in the air he’s completely focused, not even thinking about their next long drive, or what’s for dinner, or even why Enjolras hasn’t invited him to his trailer in a week.

Nope, definitely not thinking about that.

After some solo time, he and Floréal practice together. Grantaire doesn’t drop her (he never has) and his wrist feels strong, not at all like he sprained it. He can hear Feuilly and Jehan whistle and cheer from the ground, when they do something particularly fancy. It feels good, makes him work harder.

“That was phenomenal,” Combeferre says, making his way over to Grantaire while he cools down with some more stretches. Grantaire shrugs it off, but it’s always pleasing to be complimented on something he takes pride in. “How many years have you…”

“Swung from bars like a monkey? Not as many as you think, but I’ve had a lot of acrobatics training. Since I was like...two? Twoish. It’s been a while.”

“He is rather apeish,” Feuilly teases, mussing Grantaire’s hair from where he stands talking to Jehan.

“Rude.” Grantaire swats at Feuilly’s legs. “Come on, Combeferre. Lets get out of this hostile work environment. I think there’s a movie theater in town.”

After he changes, Grantaire finds Combeferre in the trailer he shares with Courfeyrac, and they head out. Grantaire unlocks a green pickup truck from the short row of vehicles that aren’t attached to trailers.

“Won’t someone miss that?” 

At his question, Grantaire grins and raises a finger to his lips.

“Enjolras won’t even realize it’s gone.”

“We’re stealing _Enjolras’s_ truck?” Still, he swings up into the passenger’s seat and buckles his seatbelt as Grantaire navigates them onto the road.

“I know where he keeps his keys.” Grantaire shrugs.

They see some random comedy, nothing special. They pick it solely based on its name - being on the road without constant cable doesn’t leave a lot of time to be informed about popular movies. Grantaire buys the tickets, and Combeferre springs for some snacks.

Grantaire spends most of the movie whispering comments in Combeferre’s ear, and trying to lodge as much popcorn in his hair as possible. Halfway though the movie Combeferre shakes his head and sends a cascade of kernels all around him. They then spend five minutes laughing, and it’s lucky that they’re the only two in the theater, because Combeferre’s retaliation is swift and severe. Grantaire needs a shower, as there’s popcorn in his hair and butter sauce all over his hands and face.

“You are ridiculous,” Combeferre says once they’re back in the car, but he’s smiling. Grantaire laughs.

“We don’t have a show tonight, everyone else was relaxing or practicing. You didn’t have work to do. We were just...creative in our recreation.” He looks over at Combeferre across the center console to wink.

“Creativity in the _ringmaster’s_ truck,” he says.

“Woah now, don’t let Enjolras hear you call him that, outside of the big top.”

“But he is,” Combeferre protests.

“He doesn’t like the insinuation that he’s more crucial to the show than anyone else. Equality, everyone is important, etcetera. Also, to him, Lamarque will always be the ringmaster.”

“Lamarque?”

“A long time ago, Les Amis was not quite Les Amis yet, and we weren’tdoing so well. I had just gotten on board; I was pretty young and I just didn’t want to be in the same lace as my parents anymore. Les Amis didn’t have a lot of talent, and had some corrupt people high up taking money. It was pretty bad. Then Lamarque stepped up, took over in nothing short of a revolution. Enjolras was pretty instrumental in doing so. Lamarque got really sick last year, though. She couldn’t keep up with the traveling, and ultimately didn’t make it.”

Grantaire goes quiet, gets lost in his head for a moment.

“It was somber around here for a while. We’re all close. But we bounced back. I think it hit Enjolras the hardest, he and Lamarque were like family. Ah, speak of the devil,” he says, as they pull back in to see a frowning Enjolras.

“He looks mad,” Combeferre says. 

“Woah dude, you are too scared of Enjolras. He looks like a tiger, but the guy’s really a baby deer. Relax. I promise you’re not in trouble.” If anything, Grantaire is the one who will be in trouble.

“How was your trip?” Enjolras asks, raised eyebrow. 

“Movie was lovely,” Grantaire drawls, leaning against the door of the truck and swinging Enjolras’s keys. “You should have joined us, had fun for a change.”

“Well, Courfeyrac and I were playing cards, but I guess that doesn’t count. Plus, I wasn’t invited.” Enjolras isn’t smiling, but he doesn’t look angry. If anything, he looks hurt. Grantaire takes a few steps forward to meet Enjolras and hand him his keys. When he’s within arm’s reach, Enjolras grabs his hand and pulls him in close.

“Um,” starts Grantaire, ready to apologize, if it really is an issue. Enjolras’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline, and Grantaire stops.

“Next time,” Enjolras says in a low voice, “You should just ask. I don’t dislike you nearly as much as you think I do.”

“Then why have you been ignoring me for weeks?” Grantaire grits out, hurt and confused. Enjolras’s eyes flick over Grantaire’s shoulder, and then he looks around. Grantaire twists as well, and notices that Combeferre has gone. “He thinks we’re together,” Grantaire says with a sigh, and Enjolras loosens his grip, but doesn’t let go.

Strangely, he says, “I’m sorry.” Like it’s something Enjolras should be apologizing for, rather than Grantaire.

“I mean, we kind of act like it, or we used to,” Grantaire says, staring at Enjolras’s hand wrapped around his wrist. Enjolras doesn’t respond. “Also, I think he’s scared of you. Scared you’ll fire him, or scared he’s doing something wrong.”

“Why?” Enjolras looks affronted. It’s just like him to be unreasonably upset that someone in the company finds him unapproachable.

“Well you do have that whole,” Grantaire makes a wide, vague gesture, “thing going for you.” Enjolras clearly has no idea what he means. Grantaire lets out a heaving sigh. “You frown a lot, you stay in your trailer all the time, everything you do is super intense. Also you’re the leader, and I know you’re not technically the boss, but I guess it seems like that to him, rather than the partnership you envision. You’ve never spent time with him, alone or in a group, and he’s been here for a month. Everyone else loves him.”

“So I should…” Enjolras trails off, looking at Grantaire questioningly. Grantaire never imagined the day Enjolras would be asking him for advice.

“Talk to him,” Grantaire says slowly. “Hang out a bit. We have a lot of free time. I know you’re busy, but he doesn’t do a lot. Ask him for some help, I’m sure he’d be thrilled. Guy joined the circus and all he does is give animals shots and update their records.”

“Okay,” Enjolras says slowly.

“Also maybe spend some more time with me. Or, um, everyone. You haven’t even been hanging out with Courfeyrac lately, and he’s your best friend.” Enjolras finally lets his wrist go, taking the keys from him. Grantaire flexes his fingers, and meets Enjolras’s eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” They stand for a minute, and Grantaire makes a motion to leave, but Enjolras stops him. “We’re dark tonight. Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Enjolras points back at his trailer.

Grantaire is taken aback. The ‘time’ he and Enjolras usually spend together is up against a wall, after he’s annoyed Enjolras enough to make him pushy and frustrated. This new, nervous Enjolras who’s trying to be nicer is strange, but Grantaire isn’t going to say no. Especially when it’s something he suggested only moments ago.

They end up laying in Enjolras’s bed, with his laptop perched on the end. Enjolras fidgets throughout the first hour of the movie, until Grantaire pauses it, and turns to him, folds his arms while laying on his side.

“If you’re so uncomfortable, it’s okay, we don’t have to do this.” Enjolras’s uneasiness is making Grantaire’s stomach churn.

“No, I like it.” He picks at the blanket they’re laying on. “You said Combeferre thinks we’re together.” Grantaire nods. “And then you said it’s because we acted like we’re together.” Grantaire nods again. “But you said it like there’s no way we could have been.”

Grantaire’s heart lodges itself in his windpipe. He looks at Enjolras with wide eyes and wills him to finish. He feels as nervous as Enjolras looks.

“Were we not together, until a week or two ago?”

Grantaire needs to stop and reassess, because apparently he didn’t calibrate for Enjolras’s strange ideas of dating.

“We were fucking in your trailer, or mine, or somewhere else a couple times a week. You thought we were dating?” He’s having a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that Enjolras has even considered dating him.

“Was that not dating?” _Jesus fuck._

“Enjolras. Generally, when you’re dating someone else, they know it too.”

“So that was...just sex?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Grantaire says carefully. No, no, no, never, no. “Well, not for me. Wasn’t it just sex for you?”

“I guess I figured,” Enjolras clears his throat, “That it was the easiest way to tell you what I wanted?”

“Well, when you wanted my-” Enjolras stops Grantaire with a choked sound, his face going very red.

“Don’t be vulgar,” he squeaks. “I just thought you would be the most receptive with physical affection.”

Grantaire stares at him a long moment.

“Let me get this straight. You thought that the best way to express to me that you would like to try dating me was to push me against a wall and stick your tongue down my throat?”

Enjolras squeaks.

“Enjolras, you do realize that romantic attraction and sexual attraction are not the same thing?” Enjolras frowns.

“Of course, orientations are-” Enjolras begins, but Grantaire cuts him off.

“So it never occurred to you that I, oh maybe, that I thought you just wanted me for sex?”

"Really?" He looks dumbstruck, and mildly crushed.

"Well you only usually talk to me to argue with me. Or, you know. And then you barely talked to me for weeks, so I figured..."

“”Well, you started hanging out with Combeferre a lot.” This is true. Still.

“Initially at your request.”

“I thought he might be better for you.” His voice is quiet now.

“You don’t get to make my decisions for me, Enjolras,” Grantaire’s nearly yelling now. “Better than what? Better than you? You of all people shouldn’t be judging anyone like that! Yes, I like Combeferre. No, that does not mean I’m not completely ass over heels in love with you. God, Enjolras, get your head out of your ass.”

“Grantaire,” he says, wounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - We should have talked about what this is. Um. We _should_ talk about what this is. Was. Is?” He sounds hopeful, and Grantaire absolutely crumbles.

“Now?” He would cross oceans, climb mountains, dive off cliffs, merely at Enjolras’s request. This feels mildly like diving off a cliff.

“Now.”

~

Enjolras and Grantaire decide to take it slow, and actually date. Well, date as much as a circus lifestyle can allow, when they’re still trying to keep it a secret from all their friends and fellow company members. It’s not something they’re ready to share with the world yet. This is partially because Enjolras doesn’t want to have to share Grantaire yet, and partially because he’s afraid Grantaire is going to get fed up with him within a month.

So they steal moments here and there when no one’s watching. They have coffee in Grantaire’s trailer when Jehan, Joly, and Bossuet are out. Grantaire will sneak to Enjolras’s trailer in the guise of a late-night practice session so they can lie on Enjolras’s bed and watch a movie, or just talk and kiss. Sometimes Enjolras will hang out with Combeferre and Grantaire, which gives him an excuse to not only spend time with his almost-boyfriend, but also get to know Combeferre.

Combeferre is amazing. Besides being very good at his job, he’s calm in the face of crisis, sharp as a tack, and willing to lend a hand wherever needed. He also has impeccable taste in movies, and one night finds Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac in an intense movie marathon which starts after a show, and lasts late into the next day. The three of them fit together seamlessly. Courfeyrac makes bad puns, which Combeferre counters with even worse puns. Enjolras groans into his pillow and tries not to hit Courfeyrac. Combeferre gets the benefit of the doubt, because he’s still new-ish, and looks ridiculously cute in his glasses. Courfeyrac is just a menace.

“Do you think,” Enjolras asks, that morning while he and Combeferre are working on ordering animal feed for their next few stops, while watching the third Lord of the Rings, “that you could help me train an elephant?”

“I’m a veterinarian, not a trainer.” Combeferre’s brow is furrowed, but it does nothing to stop the whirling of Enjolras’s mind. “What were you thinking of? I mean, I’d be happy to give any pointers that I know of.”

“Well, we lost our elephant trainer just before we started the season, and I’ve been unable to find anyone that I like, or who fits in with us. So Atlas has more or less just been around for elephant rides. I think she’d be happier if she were performing. I think we’d also draw bigger crowds if we could boast an amazing elephant act.”

“So, what were you thinking?” Courfeyrac pipes in. “Acrobats?” Enjolras shrugs, and plays with Courfeyrac’s hair, the man clinging to his side sleepily.

“I don’t know how well I can help train, but we can talk it out if that will help,” Combeferre offers.

“Maybe Grantaire?” Combeferre catches a small smile from Enjolras, the soft look in his eyes as he thinks about Grantaire and the elephant.

“Trapezes and elephants?” Combeferre raises an eyebrow.

“What about Grantaire and Floréal’s trapeze act segueing into an act with the elephant? They could do an act, and then the elephant comes through the center while they’re climbing down. Then something with acrobatics and the elephant.” Courfeyrac is sitting up now, concentrating on the matter at hand.

“Vague,” Combeferre says, “but promising. You should probably talk to Grantaire and Floréal about it.”

“Okay,” Enjolras says, pursing his lips and going back to his paperwork. Every so often he looks up at Combeferre, sighs, and then goes back to the paperwork.

“You want to go talk to them right now, don’t you?” Courfeyrac says dryly, with a raised eyebrow. Enjolras nods. “Oh, Enjolras. You are such an excited little noodle.”

Enjolras blinks, and then dissolves into giggles. Staying up all night was not necessarily a good idea, but it’s been a while since he spent quality time with Courfeyrac, and he enjoys Combeferre’s company more every time.

Grantaire and Floréal are thrilled at the idea. They immediately start tossing ideas back and forth. Enjolras bounces on the balls of his feet excitedly.

And that is how the newest act of Les Amis de l’ABC Spectacular begins.

~

Combeferre spends a lot of time with Grantaire (and more recently, with Enjolras too), the animals, and Courfeyrac. When he’s not doing daily checkups or loading and unloading animals and supplies, he’s likely in his trailer with Courfeyrac.

“You’re lucky to have me, you know?” says Courfeyrac, with a smile. Combeferre rolls his eyes, but nods. He really is. “Who else would tell you that Grantaire makes eyes at you when you’re not looking, and that he obviously likes you in that green shirt? No one, that’s who. Just me.” He winks.

“Aren’t Enjolras and Grantaire a thing?” Combeferre turns around so Courfeyrac won’t see him blush. He hears the door swing open.

“Enjolras and Grantaire have hooked up before, yeah,” Cosette says, as she jumps on Courfeyrac’s bed, pecking him on the cheek. “Nothing official, though.”

“Grantaire looks at Enjolras like he personally hangs the sun in the sky each morning. But all they do is argue,” Courfeyrac shrugs. “I love Enjolras, but he’s not the best boyfriend material.”

“Not like you?” Cosette raises an eyebrow.

“I am perfect boyfriend material,” Courfeyrac whines. Cosette pats him on the head, much like a dog.

“I’m not sure it’s my place to interfere though,” Combeferre points out.

“You’re a good guy, Combeferre.” Cosette smiles. “But we’re all grown-ups here. If you like Enjolras, you should go for it. The two of you seem to get along very well.”

“I was talking about Gra-” Courfeyrac starts, but Combeferre shushes them both.

“Thank you for your advice,” he tries to say it very kindly, but it probably comes out rather strained.

Shortly after, he leaves the trailer to deworm the horses. If he wears his green shirt, it’s only because green is his favorite color, and definitely not because he’s having lunch with Grantaire before the practice session for the new act.

Combeferre is a grown man, he should be able to keep his emotions in check. He’s not sure what the policy is on dating coworkers within the circus, but it’s probably a bad idea - especially since two of the people he’s interested are two of his closest friends here.

He puts the idea out of his mind, and focuses on writing up a deworming and shots schedule for the rest of the year, through the off-season. Grantaire comes to get him for lunch, and Combeferre can’t help but notice the way Grantaire’s eyes linger on the tattoos just poking down from Combeferre’s sleeve. Maybe there is some truth to Courfeyrac’s words.

“Ready?” Grantaire asks, and with a nod from Combeferre they head to the food tent. They meet Joly there, who immediately frets over a bruise on Combeferre’s inner arm as they get in line for lunch.

“I got bit,” Combeferre says. “One of the horses - Persephone - had some soreness in one of her back hocks. She didn’t like me pressing around. It was my own fault.” Joly glares at him.

“Be safe. You too, R. I hear you’re working with the elephant now. How’s the wrist?” They move their trays down the line to pick up some chicken, buffet-style.

“Still fine. I’ve been in shows by now. You’ve watched me. It’s been weeks.”

“You never know.” Joly glares at his wrist like it’s going to do something sinister. He sighs. “Anyways, tell me about your elephant act. Or better yet, Combeferre, tell me about the elephant act. I won’t understand half of what R says. I can barely keep up with Musichetta and Bossuet when they talk about their routines.”

Combeferre has gotten the general impression that Bossuet, Musichetta, and Joly are all best friends, or sleeping together, or dating, or all three. He’s not really sure, but they make it look easy. Combeferre can’t even manage a crush.

“Well,” Combeferre says. “Right now they’re just trying to work on elephant commands with Atlas. Mostly bowing, or walking in certain directions and raising her head. They really haven’t gotten into any of the acrobatics yet, except normalizing Atlas to having two moving people on her back.”

“She’s a good sport,” Joly says, eyes crinkling.

“Yeah,” Grantaire pipes in. “She’s a treat.”

“You guys ready?” Floréal appears out of nowhere, head popping in-between Grantaire and Combeferre. Combeferre, with his mouthful of chicken, startles.

“Ten minutes,” promises Grantaire. “Why don’t you come, Joly? It’ll be fun!”

“Large animals are not my favorite,” he says. “Well, I like the tiger.”

This seems to Combeferre an egregious mistake on Joly’s part, the only person he’s ever seen Pentheus react well to is Courfeyrac, who plays his part as lion tamer well. He has to have Courfeyrac there when he checks out the tiger. No one really wants to do much more than throw his food in his large trailer, Combeferre included. He doesn’t really like to think about how he risks life and limb for this job.

The practice goes well, mostly. Enjolras gets fed up with Atlas because she stops responding to his commands. Enjolras, however, refuses to use the bull hook or the whip. Combeferre pulls him aside.

“I understand that you don’t want to use the hook, I don’t really like the look of it either. But you’re not going to hurt her if you smack her a bit. She is literally hundreds of times your weight, and much, much larger. Her skin is an inch thick in some places. With as careful as you’ll be, you’re not going to hurt her.” Enjolras still looks uneasy, but Floréal brings him a riding crop he can use, so he’s sure he won’t hurt Atas.

Combeferre laughs when Atlas barely notices when Enjolras smacks her, just huffs and shuffles in the direction he wants. With the force, or lack of force, Enjolras is using, Combeferre would guess the the crop feels rather like a persistent fly.

Grantaire and Floréal try a few balances while Atlas walks around the arena. They do handstands, and a few exercises in which they link arms or legs and do impressive flips in the air.

“They look great,” Combeferre says to Enjolras, when they’re done for the day.

“They really do,” Enjolras says. “Thanks for all your help. I- We really appreciate it.”

“Not sure how much help I’m being, but I’m glad to sit in and spend the time.”

“Still,” Enjolras says, and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, looking at him with a sweet smile.

His breath catches in his throat a moment, but he nods, and suddenly can breathe again.

“I’ll see you later?” Enjolras asks, and after a nod from Combeferre, he jogs to catch up with Grantaire. Combeferre is going in the same direction, otherwise he wouldn’t see Enjolras slip his hand into Grantaire’s, and press a kiss to his temple. It’s obvious they’re trying to be clandestine about it.

Combeferre’s stomach does a funny little swooping thing, and his face feels really hot. He’s not going to cry over a little crush, he’s a grown man. But it does bother him, as he’s walking back to his trailer, that he can’t decide if he’s more envious of Enjolras or of Grantaire.

It won’t change his friendship with either of them, but Combeferre would be lying is he said it wasn’t going to be harder now.

~

Dating Grantaire is weirder, if possible, now that they’re public about it. Enjolras can kiss him in the big top, steal his food at lunch, and put his arm around him when they’re walking around. They’re mostly met with eye rolls and sly smiles. 

It’s especially weird because dating Grantaire seems to mean that he spends a lot of time with Combeferre. It’s not that he didn’t spend time with Combeferre before, but over the past couple weeks, he thinks he’s spent more time with Grantaire and Combeferre together than just with Grantaire.

“When I told you to be friends with him, I didn’t think you’d be so close,” Enjolras grumbles, watching Combeferre walk away, after dinner.

It’s not something he’s actually angry about, per say. Combeferre is really cool. He’s well-read, he’s interesting, he’s funny, he’s attractive. He’s _really_ attractive. It’s one of the many reasons he doesn’t mind spending so much time with his boyfriend and Combeferre. He knows Grantaire thinks Combeferre is attractive as well. He sees the looks, the wide eyes and dry swallows. And he completely understands.

“Are you jealous?” Grantaire sounds positively gleeful, his expression a shit-eating grin.

“No,” Enjolras grumbles. “You just spend a lot of time with him, and he has pretty hair.”

He does have pretty hair. It’s a nice, slick undercut, and the top is perfectly tousled.

“Your hair is pretty nice, too,” Grantaire points out, and Enjolras whines, flopping over so his head is in Grantaire’s lap. He tugs his ponytail out. “Is this my cue to play with said hair?” Enjolras nods. “You know, some people think you can be terrifying, but you’re really just an oversized cat,” he grumbles.

“But he’s so smart,” Enjolras whines, mind still on the same track.

“Are you actually jealous?” Grantaire’s hands still in his hair.

“I mean-”

“Wait, are _you_ jealous? Or should _I_ be jealous?” He says it lightly, but Enjolras sits up, frowning.

“You know I would never-”

“Of course,” Grantaire says, but he doesn’t look totally convinced.

“I would never cheat on you,” Enjolras says, taking Grantaire’s face between his hands. “But-”

“It’s just that he’s wildly attractive and wicked smart and really good at what he does,” Grantaire sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

“Should _I_ be jealous?” Enjolras asks. Grantaire rolls his eyes.

“We should get ready for the show, you dork. We can talk about this later.” 

“We have hours,” Enjolras protests, but Grantaire is getting up and opening drawers. He notices that Grantaire doesn’t give his a straight answer, but he only sees fondness in Grantaire’s eyes.

“Seriously Enjolras, you make Feuilly do more work every time you laze around before a show.” Grantaire is just teasing him, but Enjolras is out like a shot.

Enjolras spends his time before the show making sure everyone is set up and all of the animals are okay, before returning to his trailer to get dressed. He irons his shirt one last time, and then returns to the big top half an hour before show time. The stands are already filling.

They have a big flap in the back of the tent that they can draw up for performers to enter. No one except the ushers are inside right now. 

The show starts with Enjolras's entrance, a spectacle in its own right. He's well aware of how he looks. He's been told countless times, and propositioned more than once at the end of the show.

Enjolras wears a lot of red and gold, a pretty standard ringmaster's costume. His red coat is beautiful and ornate. He hates the top hat, but it makes him look older and more elegant, as well as more like someone who could actually be in charge.

He takes a deep breath, and walks in. Feuilly has already miced him, so when he speaks, it echoes, and all eyes are immediately on him.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Les Amis de l'ABC Spectacular!"

He feels foolish saying it, every time. But it's a performance and he acts for all he's worth. The laminate floor is solid beneath his tall black boots as he spins throughout the center of the arena, detailing the dating feats and extraordinary acts the audience will see this evening. As he's introducing the first act, a series of acrobatics, the cast is literally tumbling out of the entrance, rolling and cartwheeling. Enjolras has seen it a hundred times, been a part of it even more, but he will never get used to it. 

It's a fantastic whirl of colors and flying limbs, and Musichetta is the highlight of the act. Bossuet helps her into the ribbons, and sets her on a slow swing in a circle, as she twists and flips in midair, with only her hands twisted in the ribbons for support. The crowd is awed, and the applause when she flips over and over and over to lower herself, is deafening. It's a fantastic way to begin the show.

Courfeyrac comes after the acrobats, wowing the crowd with his impressive tiger taming skills. Enjolras smiles from his shadowed corner, as Courfeyrac steps back from the snapping jaws of the tiger. He looks distressed, and the crowd gasps, but Enjolras has literally seen Courfeyrac crawl into the tiger cage and take a nap with Pentheus. He's not exactly worried that the incredibly well-trained tiger will gnaw off Courfeyrac's hand.

There are a number of clowns next, on unicycles and balancing plates, and the crowd laughs almost straight through.

After the clowns comes Cosette, throwing her knives at Marius, who doesn't even flinch at this point. 

The only point Enjolras steps out of the tent is when Grantaire and Floréal enter. It’s there where he finds Combeferre, who has presumably been chatting with Grantaire and Floréal prior to their entrance.

"Can't watch?" Combeferre asks, his hands on his pockets.

"I haven't been able to for a while. It's hard to see him swinging in the air so high, and not imagine him crashing to the ground, even with the net." Enjolras shivers. He would never dream of stopping Grantaire from performing, but it's a special kind of hell to have to watch it, and imagine all of the broken bones his boyfriend could finish with, or worse. He can barely watch when they practice with the elephant, though it’s much easier when he’s standing right there, ready to catch Grantaire if he falls.

"He knows what he's doing," Combeferre says, but it has a certain uneasiness to it and Enjolras raises his eyebrows.

"Well, you're not watching either," he points out. Combeferre looks down and shrugs.

"I've never been much of a daredevil myself, and I can't understand how other people do it."

"You've watched the show before. At least on the night you joined us."

"I needed a job," Combeferre shrugged. "It was a great show, but I don't know if that much adrenaline is healthy in daily doses, especially in someone who's not actually performing."

Enjolras smiles.

"Yeah, performing is a special kind of rush. I haven't been in a show in over a year, but it's hard to forget."

"Grantaire said you were a contortionist."

Enjolras curls his bottom lip in displeasure. 

"I prefer the term 'acrobat' but yeah, I can twist my body in all number of ridiculous positions. I prefer letting everyone else show off, though. Plus, the intricacies of my act were better seen when we drawing smaller, more intimate crowds. It's harder to see now, with the size of our usual audiences.”

“Why don’t you perform anymore? I would imagine it’s hard to give up.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras smiles in the direction of the tent. “But there is so much talent in this group that I’d rather watch them, or not watch them, than perform myself. Also, I injured my ankle last year. I can still do a lot, but not much as regularly as performing and practicing would require.” He shrugs. “It’s okay. I dabble here and there during practices, when I’m bored.”

“Grantaire said you have a magic act as well.”

Enjolras bursts out in laughter. It must seem very uncharacteristic, because Combeferre is taken aback.

“Yeah,” Enjolras wheezes. He wipes at his face and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, remind me to show you some time. We usually do an amateur’s night every few months, just for fun. Pretty much anyone will teach you something if you ask during practice. We love teaching other people to do what we love.”

“Good to know.” Combeferre smiles, and Enjolras feels warm inside. “You should probably get back in,” he points out, and Enjolras can hear the music de-crescendoing, so he really should get back inside.

“Yeah, thanks.” He turns to go back inside, but then faces Combeferre again. “Grantaire and I are going into town for dinner on Tuesday. You should come.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even process them.

“Um, yeah,” Combeferre stutters, looking surprised. “Sure, that sounds...good?”

“Great!” Enjolras says, and then disappears back into the big top, just to see Grantaire and Floréal take their bows.

He pauses, steps faltering as he makes his way back inside. He’s not entirely positive, but he thinks he may have just asked Combeferre out on a date. 

Of course, he worries about it for the rest of the show - worries what Combeferre thought, worries what Grantaire will think, worries about what’s going on inside his own head.

“I’m not sure,” he says later, with Grantaire’s head pillowed on his chest as they talk about the show. “But I think I may have invited Combeferre out with us on our date next Tuesday.”

Grantaire hums against his chest.

“Like invited him to hang out with us, or invited him on a date?” Grantaire’s voice is casual, but his hand in Enjolras’s is tightening. 

“I’m not sure,” Enjolras says. “But of course it has to be just hanging out, right? I mean we’re dating each other, and it’s not like we can date him-”

“Can’t we, though?” Grantaire sounds curious, and that is just. Just. Enjolras doesn’t know what it is, but it doesn’t seem like a bad thing.

“I know we kind of danced around this earlier. Is that something you would want?” Grantaire and Combeferre have been friends since the beginning, and Enjolras knows Grantaire thinks Combeferre is attractive.

“Is that something _you_ would want?” Grantaire shifts so he can meet Enjolras’s eyes.

Their faces are so close, Enjolras can’t help but lean up and kiss Grantaire, slow and lingering. He doesn’t stop until he feels Grantaire smile against his lips.

“It’s not that you’re not enough,” Enjolras says. Grantaire’s fingers tighten in his shirt. “But I think it could be...good. If it’s also a thing you want.”

“And if it were a thing that I would want?”

“Then I would say that we should ask Combeferre out.”

“Out on our Tuesday date?” Grantaire asks.

“Maybe we should feel it out a bit first? The last thing I want to do is make him uncomfortable. Also, I want us to be okay.” He reaches up to brush back Grantaire’s curls. “So we should take a week or two to figure out if this is something that will work for us.”

“Pragmatic,” Grantaire says, frowning. “That’s not like you.”

“I care about you,” Enjolras says softly, sitting up so that he and Grantaire are face to face. “I care about you a lot. I don’t want to do anything that changes our relationship.”

“Well, adding another person to our relationship would definitely change it,” Grantaire says, smiling.

Enjolras rolls his eyes.

“You know what I meant.” He pauses, bites his lip, looks away and then back. “I love you.”

Grantaire’s mouth drops open, and it takes a moment for him to pull Enjolras in to a forceful kiss. Enjolras ends up in Grantaire’s lap with his hands in Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire is grinning and laughing into the kiss.

He pulls back just enough to say, “I love you, too.” He pauses, then continues. “I think we’ll be okay, whether we date Combeferre or not.”

The next day, they have lunch with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Combeferre tells a story about med school and shows them his hip tattoo. 

“Yeah, it’s a sunflower.”

“Is that Van Gogh?” Grantaire asks. “That’s really neat.” Combeferre blushes.

“Thanks. I got a new tattoo for every year of vet school I successfully completed. It gave me something to look forward to. So now they’re reminders, more than anything.” Enjolras has seen the running horse on his bicep, and now the sunflower, but he doesn’t know about the other two.

“Come on, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac tugs on his sleeve, “We have to go finish Deathly Hallows.”

“We’re at the end of a movie marathon,” Combeferre explains. “Sorry. See you later?”

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Grantaire turns to Enjolras.

“I want to try,” he says. “I want to try dating Combeferre.”

“Oh thank God,” Enjolras says. “I didn’t know if I was going to be able to wait more than a week to say I’d made a decision. Let’s do it.”

~

Combeferre, of course, sees them before their Tuesday whatever-this-thing-is. He knows it can’t be a date, because Enjolras and Grantaire are together, and they’re disgustingly into each other. Combeferre can’t miss the way Grantaire hangs on Enjolras’s every word, and the smitten smiles Enjolras sends Grantaire whenever he’s not looking.

It’s adorable. So Combeferre isn’t quite sure why they keep hanging out with him. Maybe pity? He has friends in the company, but maybe Enjolras feels bad that Grantaire and Combeferre became very good friends before he and Grantaire got together.

Anyways, he has to see them before Tuesday. There’s simply no way around it, not that he would want to find a way, because they have a practice for Grantaire and Floréal’s new act.

He still isn’t sure why they want him there, he’s been little to no help. He’s told Enjolras a thousand times, he can be the elephant’s vet, but not the elephant’s trainer. But when Enjolras looks at him with those pretty, imploring blue eyes, who is he to deny him?

They’re training in the big top today, in order to try and get some sense of the space and how they should piece together an act. When Combeferre arrives, a group has already assembled. Floréal is on Atlas, and Atlas is butting Grantaire with her trunk. Everyone is laughing, and Combeferre walks up to excited greetings. Bossuet and Musichetta are here today- he thinks everyone has stopped in on a practice at least once. New acts are apparently very exciting for a traveling circus.

“Good morning,” Combeferre greets everyone.

Floréal groans from her perch on Atlas.

“Is it, though? Is it really?” Her voice is muffled, as she speaks more into Atlas’s back than to the people below.

“Not a morning person?”

“Decidedly not,” says Grantaire, grinning up at her while he pats Atlas’s trunk. “Neither is he,” he says, pointing at a sleepy Enjolras, making his way across the arena to them. He’s bundled up in a large hooded sweatshirt - probably Grantaire’s - despite the quickly warming day. His hair is mussed from sleep, tossed up into a quick bun. Combeferre just wants to kiss his forehead and send him off to sleep again.

Apparently that’s a common thought, because when he makes his way to Grantaire’s side, Grantaire presses a kiss to Enjolras’s forehead.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Ready to go?”

“I guess,” Enjolras sighs. “Let’s talk about staging, though.”

Combeferre understands about half of the sentences they use when talking about trapeze acts and acrobatics. But he gets the general idea that Atlas will enter on her own, and Grantaire and Floréal will already be in the arena, finishing up part of their usual trapeze act.

“Of course, there will be a drumroll,” Bossuet says.

“Of course.” Everyone agrees, like it’s normal to have to rewrite the music for a show in the middle of said show’s run.

The practice goes on until they actually do a dry run of what they think could be a good act. It mostly involves Grantaire and Floréal doing different balancing acts on top of Atlas, and a bit with Atlas bowing and maybe shaking hands with a child from the audience. Well, shaking a child’s hand with her trunk.

Today, the role of audience child participant falls to Combeferre, who gets to stand in front of Atlas and offer her his hand.

He can see the smile in her eyes, as everyone bounces around and pats her on the head. She’s surrounded by a loving family who takes good care of her. _This_ , Combeferre thinks, _is why I went to veterinary school._

“When are you going to put them in the show?” Musichetta asks. “I’m sure Atlas would love to perform again, instead of just giving rides.” As far as Combeferre can tell, since their elephant handler had quit before he came on board, they’ve slowly been recovering.

“Probably not for at least another month. We need a full routine,” Enjolras looks at Grantaire and Floréal sternly, “and of course, costumes and music. I also probably need some more training time with Atlas to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Atlas curls her trunk around Enjolras’s shoulder, drawing a smile out of the still-tired man.

Grantaire vaults off of Atlas, and then holds out his arms for Floréal to jump down as well. It’s a graceful, yet sudden dismount. Atlas, of course, stands patiently, unflappable.

“Let’s get some rest before tonight’s show,” Enjolras says. “Or practice, if you’re scheduled for today. Floréal, it’s your turn to wash the elephant. I’m sure if you ask nicely, Bahorel will help you.”

“I can help as well,” Combeferre offers, getting a thankful smile from Floréal.

Washing an elephant isn’t really that hard. Combeferre supposes it could be, but Atlas is so kind and so well-trained, she just lies on her side while Floréal and Combeferre scrub her down with a special oil-based soap.

“How long have you been here now, Combeferre?” Floréal is absolutely soaked, suds in her hair and all over her shirt. But she’s smiling at Combeferre and smiling at Atlas like it’s no big deal to be sopping wet.

“Two months?” He stands, thinks. “Three, maybe? I’m not sure. I like it though.”

“Good. We like you too.” She winks. “Stick around, good things have been happening lately.”

They certainly have.

The next day he meets Grantaire and Enjolras at Enjolras’s trailer, ready to go into town for dinner. Luckily, he’s managed to meet their level of dressy-casual.

This is definitely a date for Enjolras and Grantaire. Combeferre would feel like he’s intruding, but they immediately fall into easy conversation, which takes them through the short ride into town and to the restaurant.

The restaurant is fancy place, with wrought-iron gates and a lovely patio. The name is French and utterly unpronounceable, and Combeferre knows a decent amount of French. Grantaire is looking at the menu outside the gates, and turns back to Enjolras and Combeferre.

“Um,” he says, “can we not?”

Instead, they end up in a small cozy café, tucked away at a back table. They order sandwiches and sodas and conversation turns to life before the circus.

“School.” Combeferre says simply, after Enjolras tells a lengthy story about wealthy parents, years of gymnastics and a brief stint in boarding school, culminating in a less-than-friendly goodbye with his family.

“Just school?” Enjolras questions.

“Do you have any idea how much schooling it takes to become a veterinarian? Let alone for large animals?”

Grantaire shrugs.

“Personally, I did five years of undergrad, with a double major in Animal Sciences and Biology. Then I took a gap year where I interned with my school’s Animal Sciences department with the livestock. I then did four years to get my V.M.D. After I was done with that, I still had to take my licensing exams.”

“That’s a lot of school,” Enjolras says, looking horrified.

“How even,” Grantaire says, looking the same.

“No university for either of you, really?”

“I grew up in a traveling circus,” Grantaire says. “I was home schooled, technically. But never applied to university. I was too busy perfecting a trapeze act with my sister.”

“What was growing up in a circus like?” Combeferre is curious, he can’t quite imagine a circus lifestyle even while he’s living it, let alone growing up in a circus.

“Very loud,” Grantaire says. “Lots of traveling. Food wasn’t always the best - our cook now is ages better than anyone I grew up with.”

“Yeah. A functional kitchen is what I miss the most,” Combeferre says. “Also my sister. But a kitchen.”

“I miss the days when I didn’t have to go to the laundromat every other day, I guess,” Enjolras says, tucking his feet up onto his seat. “But I’m pretty used to it. I like the people a lot.” He looks up to smile at Grantaire and Combeferre, who grin back at him. “What about you, Grantaire. Anything you think you missed out on?”

“Traditional family Christmas, maybe. I mean, I spend a lot of time with my family in the off-season, but,” he shrugs.

“We do have a few indoor shows lined up this year,” Enjolras says. “So we’re extending a bit later than we usually do. But we could definitely celebrate Christmas together. If you wanted.” He looks down, but in Grantaire’s direction.

Grantaire smiles, and turns to Combeferre.

“What do you say, Christmas?”

“You want to spend Christmas with me?” Combeferre had kind of assumed he would need to check on the animals a lot, maybe beg a job taking care of them this winter. The most celebrating he was going to do was to sleep on his sister’s couch for a few nights in between Christmas and New Year’s.

“Yeah,” Enjolras says, and he looks nervous.

“That would be nice,” Combeferre says, carefully.

“We really like you,” Grantaire says

“Thanks,” Combeferre says. “I really like spending time with you too.”

“Would you want,” Enjolras takes a deep breath, “to maybe go out with us some time?”

“Out like-”

“On a date,” Grantaire clarifies, speaking quickly and looking very serious. Combeferre’s eye flick from Enjolras to Grantaire, taking in both of their very serious expressions.

“You want,” he begins, but can’t finish, because he doesn’t know what to say.

“We would like if you would date us, in a polyamoric sort of way, where all three of us are together. Going on dates, and doing other sorts of couple things…” Enjolras trails off, turning red, and Combeferre understands what he’s saying.

“If that’s something you would want to be part of our relationship. If you say yes at all.” Grantaire says.

“I should add,” Enjolras says, “That your employment and our friendship is in no way contingent on what you say. We respect you a lot, both as a friend and as a person and as a vet-”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre holds up a hand to stop his rambling. “Please be quiet so that I can say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. To all of it. Dating...other things. Christmas. Yes.”

They get ice cream later, and Combeferre feels kind of like he's floating.

While they're eating, Enjolras slides his hand into Combeferre's, very casually, like maybe Combeferre won't notice if he just doesn't mention it. Combeferre squeezes his hand absentmindedly and it's so bizarre but so nice.

Combeferre feels like he should have seen this coming, but guesses he's been too wrapped up in elephants and worming medicine and his own pining. It makes sense, when he thinks about it. He shares quiet smiles with Enjolras, the fun breathless moments with Grantaire.

It’s all kind of awkward, but he thinks he can navigate through it. After all, he has two boyfriends to help him out.

~

They only manage to get Grantaire and Floréal’s new full act in a few shows before they close for the season, but it’s definitely worth all of the hard work. Their last show of the season is in a large indoor arena, they don’t even have to put up the big top.

The end of the season is exciting, but it also brings a certain kind of sadness with it. Everyone is a little bit down, though the holidays promise lots of fun, and Enjolras promises they’ll be back again before they know it.

Most performers have a family to go home to, or at least plans for the off-season, whether that’s training or vacationing. Combeferre will still be working with the animals, and he’s going to stay in the flat Enjolras leases for six months out of the year, just to have a stable residence. It’s near their storage facility, as well as the various places they’re going to house the animals.

“It’s not over,” Enjolras says, leaning his forehead against Combeferre’s. “We’ll be back next season. Plus, we’ll see everyone over the holidays for training.”

“I know,” Combeferre says, and tugs on Enjolras’s ponytail. He gives him a soft kiss, and then leans back to stand upright. “You should get on in and start the last show.” Enjolras nods, and heads in, head held high.

Combeferre makes sure to give Grantaire a good luck kiss as well, and stands with him for a long while, before he finally makes his way into the stands. It’s his boyfriends’ last show of the season: he should watch.

In the middle of their new act, Enjolras and Grantaire both catch his eyes, though at different times, and smile.

The season is over when they take their bows, but it’s not really an ending at all.


End file.
